Turned Tables
by AFishNamedSushi
Summary: Turning the tables is so much fun. One-shot.


**This might be unabashed porn. There might be a tiny hint of plot. There is definitely crack, but also feels...so, serious crack? Cocaine? I dunno...**

**This story works really well if you turn on some 70's porn music.**

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Awareness came upon Loki slowly, filtering in through lidded eyes with the rising Asgardian sun. He grimaced and turned his face into the pillow, relishing the feel of smooth silk on his cheek. He was comfortable – for once, it seemed – and didn't want to disturb the peace that came so fleetingly. Life as a player-king was surprisingly tedious. On many days even the amusement of deceit wasn't enough to keep him from slinking away from the Allfather's chambers into his own, dispensing with his carefully crafted illusion and sliding under emerald sheets, savoring the smell of the books and lingering magic despite the inevitable tightness they would cause in his chest with the unwelcome evocation of memories best left buried.

He made a dissatisfied noise as green eyes parted open. The room was still dark, but slivers of dawn crept through the curtains to chase away the light. He shifted and breathed in through his nose, closing his eyes at the pressure of the sheets on his naked body, particularly at his crotch. This was too often becoming a morning occurrence and Loki found himself irritated. He recalled dealing with a similar issue when he was much younger. He had known what it meant at the time, had read about and observed the changes in behavior it wrought upon his brother and his friends. The weakness of uncontrolled arousal; the great equalizer that turned lesser beings into mewling fools.

He could relieve it, of course, but the thought gave him no great pleasure. Because he – Loki, King of Asgard – could afford none of the weaknesses of mere peons, particularly one as demeaning and common as sexual desire.

"Good morning."

His eyes flew open with a start, swiveling to the figure standing at the end of the bed.

His insides curled at the sight.

Darcy Lewis, Thor's woman's little helper, stood before him with nothing on save silk undergarments and a placid smile. She tilted her head and blinked at him, dark hair falling forward over her shoulder. "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's time to get up." Her full lips quirked with repressed amusement.

Loki inhaled sharply, thoughts and surprise spilling forth as he grasped for tendrils of explanation. Well, this was a dream. Obviously. No doubt brought upon by the unfortunate encounter he had while last visiting (spying) on Thor. He had arrived at the home of Thor's woman intending to find his brother but instead finding Darcy, (un)dressed as she was now, teasing words on her tongue and an amused look in her eyes as she advanced like a cat on the nervous-looking boy lying on the home's living room couch. He had brushed it off at the time – grimaced, if he recalled correctly – and vowed to return again later…much later.

It appeared the sight had affected him more than he originally thought.

How irritating.

Darcy took a step forward, her face free of those odd spectacles he had seen her wear on other occasions, and offered him a contrite expression. "It's already past your usual time to get up."

Loki swallowed bitterly and opened his mouth to tell her to get out. Upon hearing the beginnings of a near pleading tone in his voice, a wave of annoyance cut through his insides. He cleared his throat and forced his usual haughtiness into his voice as he waved his hand arrogantly. "Leave."

Her smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider and her voice held a gentle politeness that was maddening. "Your highness," she said, "is something wrong?"

He began to feel a trickle of sweat slide down his temple. Had he truly been awake, his erection would have obediently faded away within minutes of waking up. As it was, his current predicament had him tensing, throbbing and persistent and demanding attention. The more he wished it would go away the more he became aware of it. Restlessness lodged itself in every muscle as he fought not to writhe against the sheets as their weight seemed to grow.

Loki pulled back the sheets and resolutely sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His heart was beating in his ears when his feet touched the floor, looking up to find Darcy walking towards him with her hands clasped behind her back. Her pose mirrored that of an attendant, an astute servant drawing swiftly to their master's side.

He trailed his eyes over her body, from her full curves and ample breasts, pale skin stark in contrast to the color of her garments, to her face with that maddening spark of mocking behind her blue eyes.

"Are you having problems?"

Loki froze, breathing in sharply in annoyance. Must he be tormented by tiresome insects even in his dreams?

"It's just…" she went on, a teasing note to her voice that pricked his skin like needles, "you seem a little out of it. Not quite as arrogant as usual. Like you don't really mean it."

His heart surged in his chest. "Mind your tongue," he seethed. "I will decide what issues need to be addressed and when."

A pause.

"So you _are _having problems, then? Or am I reading this wrong…" Darcy looked down to his sheet-covered crotch, his hands slightly fisted in the covers at his hips. She didn't even wait for him to respond before she continued. "Because I could help you, if you want."

Loki's face burned with a mixture of annoyance and shame. Why could he not wake from his hideous dream?

"I have no problems," he stated firmly, staring directly into Darcy's eyes and willing himself not to waver.

She blinked back at him, her mouth quirking into a coquettish grin that made his fingers itch to grab her by the throat.

"I understand," she nodded, the gesture full of just enough babying and condescension that it had Loki's blood boiling. "Well, I guess that means there's no other choice."

Dark premonition crawled down Loki's spine. "What?"

Without a word, Darcy demonstratively dropped to her knees, a cold shudder burning through Loki's body as she eyed his crotch. "It looks like I was right," she tutted. "You have so many _issues _don't you?"

His body twitched and burned. "Know your place, _mortal_."

"Hey dude. It's fine. Everybody's got problems." She broke her eyes away from the sheets covering his arousal and looked up at his face. "You can admit it."

Loki raised his chin defiantly, looking down at her with as much dismissal as he could muster. "Be quiet."

Darcy cocked her head slightly, dark waves falling over her shoulder, a smile tugging the corners of her lips. Without warning she reached forward and Loki had to summon his best forces of self-control to prevent himself from flinching backward. Her hand hovered over his groin, fingers inches from the cloth covering him. "You know, pretending that nothing's wrong only makes your problems worse."

"I don't have _problems!" _he ground out from between clenched teeth.

Darcy's hand inched closer and closer. The expression on her face wasn't smug or threatening, instead it was friendly and happy, but that just made the knot that had been building in the bottom of Loki's stomach even worse. Blue eyes looked up at him again and he felt himself twitch.

"Seems like you do," she said softly. There was no malice, no judgment; just a simple sentence with the clarity of an acceptance of fact.

Loki held his breath and released it slowly, the knot growing tighter. "Mortal…" he began, before pausing and licking his lips and starting again. "Darcy." He offered her his best charming smile. "I…_appreciate…_your concern, but I assure you I'm fine. Now please leave."

Darcy's voice remained neutral. "Are you sure? Because you seem pretty messed up to me."

"I'm fine!" Heat crept across Loki's cheeks as Darcy inched closer, bringing the warmth of her hand to rest on his covered thigh. It tingled like a thousand needles and he felt it like an electric shock when she started rubbing her fingers in small circles, closer and closer to source of his discomfort. Her left hand came up to join the right, skipping lightly over his calves and brushing the back of his legs in a gentle caress. Loki could do nothing other than gape at the sight, when Darcy's hand snuck under the sheet and wrapped itself around his –

He let out a noise somewhere between an exhale and a groan, pitched with disgusting desperation and foreboding of a feeling that he was loath to name. He closed his eyes, hands fisting in the sheets beside him as the hand around his erection tightened, squeezing him. Something dangerous crawled out of his mouth on the tail of a sigh, almost a moan but he couldn't stop it as his head fell back, exposing his neck as her hand moved up slowly, experimentally rolling her thumb over the head.

A barrage of complicated emotions wound itself around Loki's heart, settling over him like a net in only the way that a terrible, inescapable trap can. He wanted to wake up, oh how he wanted to wake up, his body tensing and thighs flexing with every one of Darcy's pumps as though he was being burned. Every time her hand rolled over his erection, heat settled over his entire body and he felt it all – everything that he had been denying himself for so, so long – glaring and pulsing with his heartbeat. What was he feeling? What _was _this? Wha –

"Does it feel good, your highness?" Darcy whispered humorously, pressing her lips against his uncovered knee. "Do you want me to stop?"

Didn't he?

"I -" Loki started, clenching his fists and feeling his toes curl against the floor. He brought his head back down and looked at her, kneeling before him on the floor (oh, the irony was not lost on him), her breasts straining against the contraption keeping them hidden, bobbing up and down with every jarring movement her arm made as she passed her hand over him. The face that looked back at him was calm, her eyes wide and shining, although there was something else there, something like amusement and mischief and –

"…_Ah..." _He released his hold on the sheets and brought his hand to his thigh, long fingers hovering inches from where Darcy's lips continued to press gentle kisses against his flesh. "…_Nng…_" He dropped his finger against her cheek, soft white skin stained a gentle pink against the touch. He didn't need to look far into her eyes to see his reflection, didn't need a mirror to know that his eyes were wide and his fair was falling forwards into his face like shadow. He was swept up in these feelings, these fucking _feelings_, that –

_ah_

Were so intense and what the _fuck _was going on here?!

Darcy continued to pump him with her eyes staring into his. Loki looked at her, at the way her lashes splayed over teasing blue eyes, the way her cheekbones tapered elegantly to her lips, those grinning full lips that pressed like pillows against his skin.

Loki reached farther forward to cup Darcy's cheek in his hand when another wave of pleasure crashed over him, wincing and shuddering and letting out a strangled growl. Hot shame burned down his spine, both from the noises he was making and from this betrayal, his indulgence in this most ridiculous of dreams when he was so much better than this, because he was – he was –

_oh_

The thrusts got harder and faster, and Loki felt his mind descending lower and lower, shudders gripping him like strong hands and digging like claws that were tearing him down, dragging him under –

_mmm…ah…_

"Loki," Darcy murmured, her voice sliding like honey through his stomach, pooling between his legs where her hand worked. "It's okay. You can say that you like it. I won't tell anyone."

He opened his mouth to say something, to bite or protest or yell or growl, but only a hot breath came out. His thumb rubbed across Darcy's cheek, his other hand fisting and pulling the bed covers, clenching while his hips writhed on the bed, tendons in his neck straining as his head tipped, toes curling and uncurling, shaking and knuckles strained white when Darcy lifted her lips from his leg and pressed them to the inside of his wrist.

Loki's insides were shot through by white-hot shards of pleasure, arcs of rapture dancing across his eyes as they rolled in the back of his head. He couldn't think, couldn't do anything other than _feel_, let go and accept the way the molten stardust invaded his body and carried him up in one perfect, weightless moment. He jerked his hips and let out a low growl, pumping upwards as he rode out his crashing orgasm.

Then he opened his eyes.

The room appeared before him exactly as it had before, down to the gentle light peeking through the drawn curtains and the dusty smell of ancient books. A faint taste of spent magic was palpable in the air, heavy and settling over him as he withdrew his hand from his cock. He fixed his eyes upon his crotch, the messy white fluid plastered on the sheets. He wrinkled his nose and let out a frustrated noise, wiping slim fingers on the sheets until his hand was clean of the sticky substance.

It wasn't very often that Loki had no words.

This was one of those moments.

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_This should NOT have been as funny to write as it was. I was snickering at myself the whole time, chuckling like a mad woman because I just freaking love making Loki uncomfortable. It's also ironic that the first time I write anything from Loki's POV, it's in a scenario that's more likely than not extremely OOC. Oh well, I hope you enjoyed it anyway =)_

_Happy Holidays everyone!_


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